The Country Girl

I grew up in Ballyshannon in the far south of Ireland. Ballyshannon claims to be the oldest town in Ireland. It's situated at the base of the Earne estuary and is pretty cut off - you only go there if you need to go there. This remoteness may well have contributed to the tale I'm about to tell and the life I have lived. I'm Siobhan and my story starts a long time ago, back in the days when the swinging 60's were giving way to what I call the sleazy 70's.

If I say so myself, I was a bright and willing pupil, and did well at school and I eventually qualified for teacher training college where I met Keiron. The college was in Sligo and had pupils from all over Ireland. Keiron and I were introduced because he came from Bundoran, a town really close to Ballyshannon. We hit it off immediately and pretty soon we were an item. The college was residential and strictly divided between the girls' side and the boys. Well, it was supposed to be strictly segregated but you really can't keep boys and girls apart can you? Once Keiron and I had gone beyond the holding hands, kiss at the end of the night to the serious groping and passionate kissing it was only a matter of time before I lost my virginity. In actual fact it was the first time for both of us. It happened one Friday morning when neither of us had lectures but the girls I shared my floor with did.

Before long I was naked with a boy sucking my tits, tentative fingers between my legs. I was forward enough to take his hand in mine and show him what to do and I had a blissful orgasm before he rolled on a condom and then rolled onto me. The lubrication from my orgasm must have helped as there was no pain as he entered me and he must have fucked me for fully 15 seconds before he groaned, stiffened and then collapsed on top of me. That was a long time ago and to be honest, although sex with him was and is always fun, he has never managed to last much longer. He has certainly never managed to bring me to orgasm by penetration. However, his hands and lips have more than made up for that so I'm not really complaining. Once we had done it once we did it a lot. We would pool our meagre allowance to buy condoms, sometimes hard to get and pretty expensive in those days and spend all weekend in bed together when we could. At other times we were forced apart by the strict code governing the college.

I completed two years in Sligo before I received an invitation to go to a college in London for a year to complete my course. I was very nervous at first, and didn't want to leave Keiron, but the opportunity was too good to miss. I had been to Dublin but that was all, London seemed like another universe. I arrived in the summer of 1968 and it was like going from black and white to Technicolor, everything seemed so different. I was sharing a house with three other girls and the looks they gave me when I walked in to meet them in my frumpy dress, buttoned high up to the neck and skirt below the knee was one of pity. They, in contrast, seemed to look like they had just stepped out of the pages of vogue. My parents had given me a little money and they soon helped me to spend some of it in the boutiques, and one of the girls was studying dressmaking and would make us things if we paid for the material. I never thought I looked as glamorous as they did but with my pale skin, green eyes and dark hair I knew that I turned plenty of heads.

I was initially reluctant to go out to parties as I was missing Keiron and as we had already talked about marriage the idea of being with other men seemed wrong. However, I was soon caught up in the mood of the times and started to relax. I'd call Keiron every week and he wrote me heartfelt letters and sent me little gifts. He seemed so innocent compared to the men I was meeting at the parties the girls took me to. The look at the time was moving away from the Mary Quant/Twiggy look to ape the hippies of the American West coast and the 'peace and love' ethos that went with it. In a few short weeks we went from sharp and stylish to soft and flowing in our dress and 'go with the flow' seemed to be the order of the day. For the girls in my house that meant becoming full on 'hippy chicks' buying into the sexual revolution of the pill and the relaxation of inhibitions caused by plentiful wine and the occasional joint. Every morning seemed to bring a new male face at breakfast and a satisfied smile from one of my companions. Despite my reticence and loyalty to Keiron it was at about the third party I went to with the girls, in a rambling house just off the Kings Road, that I surrendered my provincialism to a handsome boy with a posh accent.

Cajoled into a bedroom full of coats I soon had my dress around my waist and my knickers hanging off one ankle as I was subjected to a very rapid fucking, the excitement of which made up for the lack of release for me, although the boy (I was never sure of his name) certainly seemed to appreciate my compliance if the noise he made and the volume of spunk he deposited in me was anything to go by. By the time we had finished my knickers were lost forever in the tangle of coats and I then had a very nervous few days worrying about pregnancy. The obvious answer was the pill, something I could not be prescribed in Ireland. In hindsight I can see that we were being used, manipulated into sex by men who sensed that the changing mood was a great way to fuck as many naïve girls as possible. As one guy said to me, the role of a 'hippy chick' was to 'put on the (Grateful) dead, get on the bed and spread.'

There were about a dozen more encounters like that but nothing more permanent until I was introduced to Denis. When I first saw him, he was sitting cross legged on the floor rolling a joint. He had long wavy blonde hair and a neat beard and moustache. Ripped jeans and a flowered shirt completed the look, a look favoured by half the men under 25 in London at that time but there was something that set him apart. There was an intensity about him, the way his bright blue eyes looked at you was almost magnetic, once that steady gaze locked onto you it seemed to pull you closer. He was a popular guy and seemed to have done everything he needed to in order to be accepted. He'd read all the important books, knew who were the hottest bands were, knew some minor celebrities (knew everyone really) and had travelled in India. Yet somehow there was almost a distain about it all, like he knew it was just an act, a badge to be worn to gain acceptance and win your confidence. His real interest was getting what he wanted.

I'm not sure how it happened but shortly after him looking at me and us being introduced I was walking quickly through the night with him to his flat, our arms locked together as we paused frequently for some passionate kissing, his hands not shy of touching any part of me even in public. Our first coupling was urgent, frantic, almost violent in its power. I don't remember if he made me cum, but he made me feel like I needed to be possessed by him, once inside his flat I needed to feel him deep inside me and I did, his piercing blue eyes staring into mine as he fucked me urgently. When he had finished, rather than the cuddle and kiss I was expecting he rolled off me and knelt by my side and yes, he did kiss me but he kissed every part of me, from the top of my head to the soles of my feet, his hand, fingers and lips covered every inch of my body. He spent a long time on my generous tits and then he turned me over and did the same to my ass, spreading my cheeks to lick my brown hole as his stubby fingers invaded my ravaged pussy. It was almost as if he wanted to possess me, not just a sexual thrill of exploring a new body, he wanted me to know that he knew every inch of me intimately. It was chilling in its intensity but also insanely erotic. His tongue brought me to an orgasm before he held his cock upright, obviously inviting me to straddle him. Strong hands mauled my by now tender breasts and his cock filled me, I was in heaven and rode him for all I was worth before he pumped yet more spunk up me.

As a lover he was better than Keiron but in truth he just took his pleasure from me with little thought for my needs. I did cum, often, but that was more due to my excitement than his design. I guess a lot of men were like that at that time and infatuated girls like me allowed ourselves to be used. He was a couple of years older than me and was studying art with his medium being photography. As you can imagine it didn't take long before his camera was pointed at me. At first, he snapped a few of me before we went out, nice shots, head and shoulders, then some in the street or with other people. He started to direct me, to tell me what he wanted, how I should hold myself, where I should look. I can't deny that the results were impressive, I would have never believed that I could look so good and I started to trust him and did whatever he said. Then one night, when we were not going anywhere, he moved his big spotlights over to the sofa and told me to sit on it. He started taking photographs and telling me what to do - stretch out, fold my legs beneath me, hold a cushion to my chest, things like that. Then he told me to undo the buttons of my peasant blouse and tie it under my bust, exposing my flat tummy. I was a little nervous but did as I was asked. Then he said that he could see my bra and I should take it off, it would look better. I was nervous but I hardly ever disobeyed him. If I started to he would fix his bright blue eyes on me with a stare that was almost physical and, unable to hold his gaze I would do as I was told.

This was no different and I did as I was asked. I noticed that he took a shot as I was topless and I tried to give him a hard look, but he just laughed and told me not to be silly. The knotted blouse gave me a deep cleavage and every shot had me bending forward displaying my firm flesh for the camera. Next, he had me take off my skirt so he could take some of my legs. I was thankful for my plain black bikini style panties to hide my modesty, but the truth was that with the heat of the lights, the intensity of his gaze and the quiet command of his voice I was getting turned on. He told me to untie the blouse but leave it open, covering my by now hard nipples as he carefully arranged the shots, so I was showing plenty of flesh but not everything. He changed the roll of film in the camera and I think he was expecting me to argue when he told me to take off the blouse, as he started saying that only he would see the pictures as he did all his own developing and that he was an artist, but in truth he had told me to do it so I did. It wasn't long before my panties were off too, and he was taking shot after shot of me sprawled out on the sofa. He may have been surprised at how compliant I was as I didn't argue when he had me spread my legs wide and put me into some very sexual poses, displaying myself in a way that would have been inconceivable for the 20-year-old that left Ballyshannon just a few months before.

When he finally joined me on the sofa it didn't last long, he was barely inside me before he began to cum but it was enough for me and I think I had the most intense orgasm I had ever had. With the help of a few joints and some wine we fucked and sucked like rabbits for the next few hours. It was certainly the most exciting thing I had ever done and the pictures, when he developed them the next day, showed his skill. I looked beautiful in the first, mainly clothed, section. Sexy in the second partly clothed section and in the last, naked, section I looked tempting and erotic and every inch of me seemed to scream 'fuck me'. A week later we did it again and this time I was naked in half the time and he had me finger my pussy to a shuddering orgasm as he knelt in front of me with his camera. Over the next few months this was something we did regularly, and it became known as 'helping with the coursework'. I trusted him not to show anything but the demurest pictures to anyone else but that was pretty naïve in hindsight. We both knew that our relationship was going to end once I graduated and I was under no illusion that Denis would quickly move onto the next available girl. Even when he was with me, he was always taking an interest in other girls and I knew that he had fucked a few. Safe to say that even the crack of dawn wasn't safe when he was around!

At Christmas I went back in time, or back home as it was. The difference was so stark that it was easy for me to forget Denis and the things we were getting up to in London. There were some comments about the way I was dressing but I just said that I dressed that way to fit in with the girls in the house. There was actually little curiosity about my life in London, almost as if what happened there didn't count for anything, which to be honest suited me. After three weeks of quiet evenings in the pub and almost quieter nights in bed I was glad to be going back into the bright, modern world in London. Things swiftly picked up where I had left them and I found that like my Irish life, my London life had no interest in what I did when I wasn't there. Once back in London of course, I missed the simplicity of Ireland and although sex in London was so much more exciting with Denis, I did miss that Keiron treated me like an equal, not just a pair of legs to be parted when he wanted satisfaction. Due to the cost of travelling back and forth I didn't plan to go back to Ireland until I had finished my degree in the summer, which is how come I Denis insisted that I go with him to a party at Easter with people from his course, including his tutor.

This was a stressful time for Denis as his coursework (he really did have some!) was due to be submitted and marked, and he was even more forceful than usual with me due to his rising stress levels. Often, I'd turn up at his flat and would be stripped and fucked without delay and then almost ignored for the rest of the evening until he wanted to do it again. I'm ashamed to say that I didn't really mind. I liked the feeling of being forced, of being used. He was the first one to take me from behind, first kneeling on the bed and then later he liked to make me kneel on the sofa while he stood behind me, his hands gripping my hips or under me squeezing my hanging tits. I was certainly well blessed in that department, my D cup dwarfing that of my flatmates. Denis took full advantage of those too, him kneeling astride my chest and wrapping them around his cock seemed the kinkiest thing to me at first but soon he had me squeezing them together so he could fuck them before shooting all over my face. I never admitted to Keiron that I had spent my time in London being fucked three or four times per week and had to be very careful to make him think he'd suggested doing the things to me that Denis had been doing that year.

The party was in the exhibition space at the university and some of the exhibits were by the students. Easter was unusually warm that year and with London being warmer anyway I was able to wear just a floaty, Indian style dress. Although full length it was split at both sides to show off my legs and the vee neck front buttoned down to the waist. I know I looked good in it and I knew that Denis loved me to wear it. I arrived at his flat and we had the customary joint and wine as we chatted about the day. Once suitably mellow Denis pulled us to our feet. Standing in front of me he proceeded to undo the buttons on my dress and push it back off my shoulders. I assumed that he wanted sex and was a bit surprised but knew better than to argue. However, that was not what he wanted. He turned me around, undid my bra and pulled it off me telling me that I didn't need it before helping me back into the dress and fastening all but the last two buttons. My knickers were next, he simply pushed his hands up my skirt and pulled them down leaving me naked beneath the thin cotton. The look in his eye brooked no argument.

I felt quite vulnerable as I walked into the party, conscious that my breasts had a life of their own and an inbuilt wobble that seemed to say, "look at me!" to everyone that glanced in my direction. Two glasses of wine in quick succession helped to settle my nerves and I backed myself into a corner with some people that I knew shielding me from the other guests as Denis went and circulated. I started to relax and the next hour or so passed quickly, easy conversation and free wine helping my mood. Eventually Denis came back accompanied by another guy, dressed more formally and in his late 40's. This was Felix, Denis's tutor. After complimenting me on my dress and looks he suggested that we all go and look at the exhibits. For the next half an hour we gazed at the good, the bad and the ugly with Denis and Felix being increasingly waspish about the work, fuelled by more wine. I was feeling a little worse for wear as we reached the far end of the floor, the last few exhibits being in the corridor leading to the tutor's offices. There was a couple of large abstracts that looked like spilled paint, some misshapen pottery and in the corner a selection of photographs featuring a striking looking young woman, long dark hair, pale skin, green eyes, long legs and large breasts. The photos were very good, they captured her looking away from the camera mostly, semi profile they gave her a faraway look. The black and white ones emphasised her high cheekbones, the shadows making her look mysterious and ethereal. The full colour ones showed her bright eyes and a sense of anticipation and excitement.

The exhibit was titled "An Banphrionsa" or "The Princess" in Gaelic. In all of them the Princess was naked and they were of me, I was the Princess. They were some the photos that Denis had assured me would never be seen by anyone that he had taken over the winter before fucking me. I was initially stunned, then my mind went to the other photos, the more explicit ones, who had seen those? Denis and Felix were both laughing at my obvious discomfort as they looked at the pictures, talking about their favourites. Denis then came behind me and wrapped his arms around me, initially in a comforting way as he nuzzled my neck before moving his hands up to cup my tits whispering that he had wanted to use some of the others, but that Felix had said no.

So, Felix had seen them. No wonder he was looking at me like that. I didn't have time to think or say anything else then as Felix opened one of the doors and I soon found myself in his office. It was a large room, desk at one end with some chairs and at the other a sofa and a couple of armchairs. Denis pushed me back onto the sofa and began to roll a joint while Felix poured us all more wine. The smoke relaxed my anxiety a little as I reflected on the photos. It was an exhibition purely for the staff and students and in a few weeks, I'd be leaving for Ireland and would probably never see any of these people again. The photos wouldn't follow me, there was no way Keiron would ever find out. I had to admit that they had looked good and a part of me was excited that so many people had seen them, no wonder I had received so many admiring looks when I walked in!

After we finished the joint Denis came and sat next to me on the sofa and put his arm around me, leaning in and kissing my neck he said how grateful he was that I had posed for him, that without me he wouldn't have finished his degree let alone passed. His kissing carried on up my cheek until his mouth was on mine and he was kissing me deeply, his tongue swirling around mine. His free hand was on my tits, squeezing them in turn as I relaxed into the drug and the alcohol. It was only after he had undone most of the buttons of my dress and was gently stroking my nipples that I remembered that we were not alone. I tried to struggle but physically I was a little uncoordinated and only succeeded in making my tits escape from the dress. Denis pulled his arm from beneath me and pushed me down onto my back on the sofa.